Category: Poetry

I spent some time tonight searching through boxes of old stuff and opened one up that had a bunch of my old yearbooks from grades 1-10. I know, it’s hard to believe, but I was once young enough to be in first grade. In the middle of that pile, I’d also saved an old school literary magazine called Flash from Spring of 1992.

I’ve seen people post old pictures of themselves on Facebook with the hashtag #tbt for “Throwback Thursday”. While this is a couple hours late and not a picture, it’s a poem I wrote back in 9th grade. (As you can tell, my literary skills have improved immensely… or maybe not.)
__________________________________

Asleep With My Eyes Open

A ragged old man walks down the street.
His thunderous stomach wants something to eat.
Suddenly, he collapses upon my feet.
But I don’t notice
For I am asleep with my eyes open.

A skimpy-dressed woman is offering fun.
She suddenly jumps up, and then starts to run.BANG! Another person picked off by a gun.
But I don’t notice
For I am asleep with my eyes open.

A man runs into me, skin of black.
As I get up, I hear a crack.
As I walk off, police club the man’s back.
But I don’t notice
For I am asleep with my eyes open.

Why is it that I’m so free?
That oppression can escape me?
I simply do not choose to see.
That’s why I don’t notice.
That’s why I’m asleep with my eyes open.

— Shawn C. Bakken

Share This:

To celebrate our final class in Strategic Technology, the instructor passed out a sheet of paper that had some limericks and haikus written on them for our enjoyment. Also for our enjoyment, she invited everyone to write one of their own. The other people in class may have started chatting with each other at that point, I really don’t know—I was too busy thinking about what to write.

I ended up writing three haikus, the last one because it seemed more related to business, and read them out loud to the class. I got the best reviews from the second (it’s also the one that I mumbled an apology about after saying it), so I’m ordering them 3-1-2 on here. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
____________________________

All these ones and all
These zeroes rule my workplace.
I can’t escape them.

Share This:

I look at the ceiling because the door is closed.
The path I saw in our future has been diverted.
I still hold her hand.
Her hand still holds mine.
But they will never hold the same way again.

A weight on my shoulders,
A dark cloud over my head,
Part of me wants to lie down and cry.
I hear her voice ring,
“There is always light at the end of the tunnel.”
However dim it might seem, the light is there.

A token on her finger, a reminder:
No matter what,
No matter when,
No matter how, I will always love you.

Sleep the sleep of angels tonight—
Our door is closed, but many others remain open.

Share This:

This poem brought to you by the best way to use your refrigerator to show you love someone when they suffer from a case of the munchies at 3:00am:

I say, “my goodness, dinner is magnificent”
as I slowly eat some delicious pie.
she begs me to snuggle, but I laugh deeply.
her eyes are ablaze and her blood boils.
she holds my neck and caresses my head.
her voice whispers softly in my ear,
“I cannot live without your warm embrace, baby.”
then the wench lights my hair on fire.